


Senses

by estriel



Category: Figure Skating RPF
Genre: Idiots in Love, Lust, M/M, Pining, Romance, Stream of Consciousness
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-08
Updated: 2019-09-08
Packaged: 2020-10-12 10:23:54
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,031
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20562746
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/estriel/pseuds/estriel
Summary: Now I want to know each smell and flavor of you, coax out every last sound, touch every inch of your skin, caress the shape of you with my yearning eyes.--Javi wants to know Yuzu with all his senses.





	Senses

**Author's Note:**

> My dear MsDaring gave me a prompt word, _honeyed_, and somehow this happened.   
I realize it may be a tad too poetic (especially for Javi), but maybe fun despite of it? The hashtag I would use for this is, probably, #thirst. :D

I know you.

My eyes feast on the image of you, a dream of motion across the ice, a collection of lines a master dancer would approve of. I am well acquainted with the way you look when you smile – a true smile, and all the fake ones. I have seen the way your face becomes an impenetrable fortress when it is time to dominate at competition. I know what disappointment looks like on you, and pure happiness. I have watched and seen every little piece of you: in stolen glances at first, then in long lingering gazes as we both grew up and got bolder about disclosing our intentions.

The sounds of you are known to me, too: the way your laughter pitches high and tinny when you’re truly amused, so different from the way you laugh when you’re choking up with emotion, tears barely held back. The way your breath tends to hitch when you’re upset, the way your voice strains when you’re in pain.

My hands know the shape of your body – the searing warmth of the soft skin at your nape under my palm, the impossibly narrow curve of your waist, the way your fingers feel so delicate compared to my larger ones when I shake your hand, or hold it. I know you how you feel against me, too, when you throw yourself into my embrace and hold on tight, the solid warm weight of you in my arms making me crave you even more every time we hug.

I know the citrusy scent of your shampoo, and the salty tang of your sweat when you collapse on a bench next to me at the end of a practice session, your thin t-shirt drenched and clinging to your chest in alluring ways.

I know you with nearly all my senses, and yet it’s not enough. I want to know what your mouth tastes like, sample the secret spot behind your ear that looks so sensitive, dip my tongue in the shallow valley between your collarbones, kiss its one lonely freckle that usually hides behind your various necklaces.

Then you finally kiss me – _I’m done waiting, Javi_ – and I would be embarrassed that it took me so long, that in the end, you had to be the braver one of the two of us once again… I would be embarrassed if I could think, or feel anything beyond the onslaught on my senses that is you, here, in my arms.

Your lips are soft and warm against mine, and perhaps a little dry. Their plumpness invites me to suck your bottom lip between mine and taste it. Your tongue is made of honeyed wonders, or so it seems, the way it slips into my mouth and seeks out mine, sending sparks down my spine. The tiny, breathy sound you make when I reach for your nape, familiar beneath my palm, and pull you flush against me, head to toe, is music to my ears.

With that first kiss, it feels like a floodgate opens, and my hunger for you rears its head, strong and almost terrifying in its ferocity.

Now I want to know each smell and flavor of you, coax out every last sound, touch every inch of your skin, caress the shape of you with my yearning eyes.

I want to smell you: the lingering whiff of perfume behind your ear when you return to your hotel room after a banquet, the clean scent of your skin when you step out of the shower, the freshness of your shampoo when I bury my nose in your hair in the morning.

I want to see you, all of you, the sparse scattering of freckles across your chest, the dark pink nubs of your nipples, the way your eyes fill with something desperate and raw when I pinch one of them with my fingers, then bow down to plunder your mouth once again.

I want to hear you, the way your breathing quickens when I lick a strip down the side of your throat, when I sink my teeth into where neck meets shoulder. I want every sound of you – the little hiss of pleased surprise when I take you in my mouth, the whine of disappointment when I pull off, too soon. I revel in the way your voice breaks around my name when I breach you with my fingers, the way your words become nothing but a desperate keening as I move inside you. I want it all, the filthy slapping of body against body as we get lost in our rhythm, the almost obscene loudness of you when you come, convulsing all around me.

I want to taste you – not just your lips, but all over your skin, down to the most intimate of crevices of your body. I want to lick into you, and see how that makes you feel, your fingers curled helplessly into the sheets, your lips bitten raw while you let me taste and savor you for as long as I please, ever the stubborn one. I want to swallow you, over and over again, take in the hot pulsing bitterness of your release, then feel you soft and heavy on my tongue.

I want to touch you… feather-light trails up and down your body to tease you, and strong, decisive strokes when you come home with aching muscles, asking for nothing when it is so obvious even an inexpert massage like mine will alleviate your pain. I want to steady you, firm and real, when you fall apart… and then pull you close after, soothe and carry you down from the high of our love-making. I want to hold you as you drift off, and smooth away your fears when you wake up from a nightmare.

I want to do this, and more, over and over again, until my eyes go half-blind and my hands are trembling and weak.

Now, and forever, I want to touch you, and with every touch, tell you with my hands what I’ve already told you a thousand times in words: that I love you, and will always love you, with all my senses.

**Author's Note:**

> Loved it? Hated it? Do let me know! <3


End file.
